Gaming Instincts
by Blood-Debt
Summary: AU. Saiyuki is a game, but who are the players and how did they meet? Virtual reality is the only escape, and the Sanzo cohort aren't who they really are.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Saiyuki Gaiden, Reload, Gunlock, and Gensomaden are the sole intellectual property of Kazuya Minekura.

This fiction is a tribute to my fellow proboard authors.

Betas: treneka, and elven dreamer. Thanks so much.

0

"Time for your next dose, Samantha," the nurse proclaimed cheerfully. It was the latest breakthrough in robotics, letting them express feelings through their voices. Robots really loved their jobs, and they were the only talking creatures Sam saw nowadays, apart from family. The girl accepted the replacement with resignation: she was on an intravenous red blood cell feed - the doctors had decided to hook her up to it all day long. Litres and litres of bloody stuff that made her like some kind of vampire. She would probably be the first to die of her disease, too, the fourteen-year-old thought morbidly. Not that it was a common infirmity. Which was exactly why she was kept away from everyone else, and they from her. But it was the only way to keep her alive - her platelet count was the lowest in a decade. Her disease was incurable, and the statistics of her acute case said she had a low chance of surviving. They had a cure for practically everything else in this world, but not her illness. Not for this mutant strain, anyway. She was simply in stasis until they took her off the machine. Then she would die.

"Thank you," Samantha said politely to the nurse. The biobot nodded and beeped out a,

''You're welcome," to the girl's thanks. The nurse inserted a needle into her flesh, but Sam had no reaction, she was used to it now. The vampire reference She thanked the robot again, and it gave the answer it was programmed to say. Sam's parents had raised her to be polite, but sometimes she just wished she could jump up and down and swear at the top of her voice. She would paint her room black and pierce her tongue, maybe go out with the 'bad boys and girls' in her year and graffiti the school. Like that was ever going to happen. Sam couldn't move from the room because of her weak immune system. It was enough to make anyone claustrophobic, but she bore with it. Purified anti-bacterial air was fed into the whitewashed room, and she rarely got visitors, excepting her mother and father. Her parents visited daily, going through a gruelling thirty minute cleansing beforehand to ensure no viruses or bacteria would enter, and therefore endanger their beloved daughter. Nowadays, her only refuge was the Net. Three days ago, she had purchased a VR gaming visor with her credit chip, which had been a surprise present for her birthday. Most people didn't get their own chip until they were twenty one at the least. It was unlimited and connected directly to her father's account, so they were trusting her implicitly. She would never abuse her father's trust, of course. Her birthday had been three months ago and this was the first thing she had bought on the GG. Once mankind had expanded onto Mars, political correctness had insisted that the World Wide Web be changed into the GG - the Galaxy Grid. However, the old word internet had stuck and been shortened to 'Net'.) Her visor had been specially disinfected by the biobot staff; they had nearly been in throes of ecstasy to help her. Of course, they were programmed for that sort of thing, and had probably been ordered to take special care of her. Her family was paying through the nose for her exclusive treatment, even though she knew they could afford for ten such remedies. This was because her mother and father were the founders of Comm® Industries; all electronic household goods were produced in their eco-friendly factories. Stock prices increased every week, so if there was anything they were lacking in, it was definitely not money.

Samantha scratched the back of her hand in irritation. The needle always itched but since the feeling was under her skin, she could do nothing about it. To take her mind off the aggravation, she reached over to her holographic screen Comm-pute®. Responding to her body heat and fingerprints on the screen, the background picture came up: a red paper plane. It was the company trademark; her father loved making them. Many a day she would sit in their garden with him, and he would teach her origami. Her father had been found floating a river as a baby, and picked up by Buddhist monks and brought up in a monastery nearby. He left at sixteen to go to university early, graduating top of the class, and accepted a job from Microsoft, soon to become a major shareholder. After setting up his own company, he bought it out and it became but a small subsidiary in the fast growing Comm® Industries. Sam would listen, spellbound and wide eyed. She thought it was the most romantic story ever, and would often imagine herself in that situation, even working in Microsoft. Mia (her mother) would come out afterwards, and laughingly declare,

"Kwan! You spoil her." She would smile and ruffle her daughter's jet hair fondly. "You're definitely your father's daughter." She didn't actually spend that much time with her mother, who spent more time at work than her spouse, and was always attending important functions here and there.

'Name,' the PC demanded. Enunciating clearly, she spoke into the headset everyone had from the age they could speak. It was programmed to her personal Comm-pute® and the link was wireless yet instantaneous.

"Samantha Zoë Taozhi." The password she entered by speaking quietly, letter by letter. They appeared as asterisks on the translucent screen. The last three letters she typed on the wafer thin extendable keyboard, and then gave the verbal command to 'Input'.

"Welcome, Samantha," the smooth voice said in her earpiece. She used the Comm®-pen to click on the Net icon, two capital G's entwined, one a reflection of the other. It used the ancient Yin-Yang concept of black and white, each 'g' contrasting, with a star behind, the colour opposite to the foreground, and an obsidian line dividing it in half. She was very proud of that line. Her father had visited the man commissioned to design the icon and she had followed him to work that day. She had been five at the time. The designer's name was Howard, she recalled.

"Look at that Sammy," he had said, propping the little girl up on his lap.

"Sammy, don't disturb Uncle How-"

"That's alright," Howard interrupted "I have kids too." Sam had looked very seriously at the sketch and said,

"There's not enough, Uncle Howard."

"Sam-"

"Why, so there isn't!" Howard had exclaimed in mock amazement "What do you think we should do then?" Samantha picked up the pencil and drew a line across the star, though it deviated from the intended course a little. The pen was digital and automatically went white on black and black on white.

"Your daughter's a future artist, Kwan!" the designer laughed, replacing her in her father's arms. Daddy set her on the floor and patted her bottom lightly.

"Why don't you go back to my office now, Sammy? Uncle Howard and I need to talk about business." She skipped back to the office merrily, where she had a special corner of her own, not knowing that Uncle Howard would actually keep the line in, or how many millions of people would use that icon daily. When she had discovered the Grid herself, she had only remembered when Daddy had pointed it out to her.

"Address URL: GG.gamechat.ame," dot com had been the old way for an American website, but the grid had changed it several years back to the first three letters of the given country.

The web page loaded immediately. She randomly chose chatroom 35.

"Please input your screen name. Please keep in mind that this will also be your gaming name," flashed the warning on the screen. Samantha decided to use both her names; SamZoe. However, she decided to game as a guy. She backspaced one. Samzo. Then she realized she had accidentally pressed the wrong key; instead of Samzo, it said Sanzo. She gave a mental shrug. It sounded okay.

She pressed the enter key and immersed herself in the gaming chatroom.

So, how did that go?


	2. Chapter 2

Once again, this is for the Proboardians.

Beta-ed by: elven dreamer and treneka.

Enjoy.

0

_Ganheim: I need a tutor. Have exam tomorrow._

_Me-Nuriko: What subject?_

_Ganheim: Maths..._

_Me-Nuriko: Alright. I can help. Immerse? You host._

The two chatter's names flashed and disappeared from the bar. On the VR, one could do anything. Some, as May saw, used it to do homework.

"That's gotta be the worst use," she muttered to herself. She was an experienced gamer. Right now, she was in six 'chatboxes' - the latest slang - simultaneously.

She switched to the next box. This one sounded more interesting.

_OptiMoose: A quest?_

_KarotsaMused: Yes, for sapphire and emerald orbs._

_elven dreamer: how many can play?_

_KarotsaMused: 9_

_treneka: Who hosts?_

_cesmith: I will_

May was about to type in to immerse in the game when her brother yelled up the stairs.

"May!" OptiMoose, KarotsaMused, elven dreamer and treneka all disappeared off the screen into private chat, where they would create their characters and set the rules.

"What?" she yelled back with more than a tinge of annoyance. Another player, therhoda, immersed.

"Have you seen my credit chip?" Next D-chan disappeared, followed by BloodDebt and Althelas.

"No," she bellowed, "try the kitchen drawer!" She moved to click on cesmith's name when the last person, rasinah, joined and the hoster's name, too, disappeared.

"JIEN! You made me miss the cut off!" she wailed.

"Sorry!" came the muffled apology. "I'm coming on too, anyway." They both had their own VR headsets, he entered the small room and sat next to her, picking up his own Comm-pute®.

They shared the tiny apartment, oh-so-kindly provided by the government. Well, she lived with him because she was underage, but liked to claim that they shared the home. 'May looked at his sable eyes - they used to be blue - and pondered again the odd circumstances that led to their current living arrangements. After he had turned his mother in, they had relocated and had changed everything, also courtesy of the government. They hadn't been found yet. The most important operation had been on their eyes; iris ops. May had changed her irises to crimson, to match her hair. That, they had allowed her to keep. They were forced to continually wear fingertip gloves, which she now used to brush away the two annoying strands of hair that continually fell in her eyes. The strands were like cowlicks, sticking straight up like antennae. Jien used to tease her when they were younger, calling her a cockroach. No teasing nowadays, though; they had to wait a few more years for that - a few more years before they could live a normal life again.

It was all their mother's fault. Or rather, Jien's mother - May's stepmother: the half-siblings had the same father, but May was a lovechild. When her true mother died bearing her, she was sent back to her father's wife to be raised. Step-mum was a drug addict and a dealer. She had abused May severely; there were two scars on her cheek no amount of plastic surgery could erase. She could disguise them, yes, but when May touched her face she felt the scars that none could see. One day, when she was beaten almost unconscious, Jien had forcibly subdued his mother and turned her in. She was locked in a mental institution now. Sometimes, May wished that the woman she called 'Mum' had died, rather than having to live the rest of an empty life in a padded cell. But it wouldn't make much difference, she and Jien weren't hiding from her, but from her mother's friends and customers.

"What chatroom are you in?" Jien asked.

"35, 89, 58 and 39," she recited, each screen popping up as she spoke. Her brother peered over her shoulder, typing without even looking at the keyboard.

"Interesting name," he commented.

"Wha- oh. I just slapped the keyboard," May admitted. Her gaming name was Gojyo. Jien imitated his sister and whacked the keys with a large palm.

"Dokugakuji."

"You got big hands, bro." She lit up a cigarette - she had contacts who could get them for her, even though they were illegal.

"May," Jien said in a warning tone. "You know I don't like you using those things. Who did you get them from?" May blew out the smoke, and sighed loudly, but all the same, stubbed it out on the foil ashtray next to her.

"Ji, I ain't gonna tell you where I get my fixes from."

"Another one of your boyfriends?" No reply. "May. Please. For me."

"Alright," she said grudgingly. Always the scrupulous one, Jien was 'an upstanding, conscientious member of community'. The mayor had said that, whilst presenting Ji the scholarship to Cambridge. She, on the other hand, had letters of warning sent home, saying 'May has done this, May has done that'. She had even been suspended once. All of it had been done to try and get 'Mum' to notice her, and it finally became a real part of her personality. She wouldn't stop smoking altogether, but she was trying to cut down on the drugs anyway. The calming effects didn't last very long anymore. Probably inferior quality. Damn 'drug tolerance'.

Jien's SN (screen name) appeared in all her chatboxes and she snorted.

"Hey, _Dokugakuji_, keeping a close watch on your lil' sis huh? I _can_ take care of myself, y'know." He gave her a look that brooked no argument.

"You don't know anyone on the double g. You can't trust anyone."

"Okay, okay," she submitted. "I'm gonna start a game."

"Which room?" enquired her ever-cautious guardian, pen poised over the Comm-pute®. May gave another sigh.

"35."


	3. Chapter 3

Many thanks to **treneka **for her beta. Again. Any mistakes are mine, not hers. Enjoy.

Points for spotting the references to Optimooses's fanfiction board.

Chapter three

Goku typed in his own name as the gamer name - he saw no harm in it, it wasn't his ID or address or anything. There were hundreds of Goku's floating around on the net. His latest movie 'Under the Basement' had been quite a hit. The girls in his school loved it, but he wasn't interested. His friends envied him, asking what was wrong with his sixteen year old hormones. He had all his film posters on the wall, from 'Under the Basement' to his first movie at ten years old 'Wait till i'm Big'. His favourite was 'biobot blunder', a film with a biobot best friend making a tiny mistake setting of a chain reaction of dynamic proportions.

On his Commpute®, he was immediately bombarded with welcomes from Goku fans.

_Iluvgoku: hiya_

Gokufan: we luv goku

gokuishot:he is soo hot. Dun u just wanna run yr hands tro his hair

gookuu: yeah

Goku55: Howd u get his name?i got denied wen i tried

The screen name was reserved for him, but he wasn't about to admit his identity.

_Goku: Lucky, I guess _

Getting bored of the one-track minds the chatters seemed to have, and their atrocious use of the English language, he switched to the next box, room 35, tapping the Comm®pen impatiently.

_Bakabokken: Gotcha._

Wildelamassu: I'll win next time.

Iapetus: I bet on Wildelamassu

Gojyo: who wants to game?  
  
Now this was more like it. Goku attached the holo visor to his headset, forgetting how opaque it was. The red plastic was almost impossible to see through, so Goku pushed the eyepiece up to his forehead. Some people even wore them as accessories now. It had been a present from his co-star Moonstar66. No surname; the man had gotten rid of it to add more mystery to his reputation. The VR was custom made, with an inscription that read, 'To Goku, had gr8 times, frm Moonstar66'.

_Dokugakuji: I'm in_

Gojyo: Figures  
  
Goku glanced about his room, wincing slightly at the Coca Cola poster with him gulping down the drink thirstily. 200th year anniversary! it screamed tastelessly. Worst decision he had ever made, his friends had made so much fun of him, teasing mercilessly at every billboard, shoving Pepsi at him and asking whether he'd prefer Coke. That was before the Coke-Pepsi merger, the latter company had taken on the other's name. Goku smiled faintly; his peers brought him back to reality when his head started to swell. And, he thought a little ruefully, they had sharp needles to do it.

"Goku... Goku..." a slightly whiny voice moaned "I'm hungry..." it was his skinny little brother, Ma®©. Goku couldn't quite see the point of the ® and ©, put his parents had thought that an unique name would put their second child even further in the entertainment industry. It hadn't worked, but the name had stuck.

Goku rummaged in his drawer (his untidiness was legendary) and found a chocolate bar not past its 'best by date'! He was genuinely surprised and passed it over to the ten-year-old mutely. Not before taking a 'tax' though, a large bite with an accompanying blissful smile. The pair's appetites, too, were legendary, with many directors despairing when all the snacks for the rest of the crew had been eaten.

"Goku..." Oh no. He wasn't satisfied after the food. More demands were forthcoming. Goku gave an inward sigh.

"Can I watch?" the minute version of himself pleaded, "Pretty please?" 

"You can't see what I play," Goku explained patiently, "I've told you that before."

"But-" The ultimate weapon was unleashed. The quivering lip with wet eyes. It got him every time.

"Look, I tell you what. I'll record it so you can watch it later, okay?" The brunette hoped Ma®© would notice the desperation in his voice.

"Promise?" 

"I promise. Now get outta here ya little squirt." The ten-year-old squealed happily at Goku's promise and skipped contentedly out of the bedroom. It was kind of a pun. Ma®©'s middle name was Squirt, and the two had a private joke; using the phrase like a fond insult from about one hundred years ago. Goku inserted a memory chip into the slot on his headset, and turned back to his PC to see whether he could join any games.

_Gojyo: max of 8 ppl_

fartherxmas: what about?

Gojyo: Ultimate quest

fartherxmas:nah

Sanzo: I'll play  
  
Good, the game wasn't gone yet. He typed in his affirmative, then clicked on Gojyo's name, disappearing from the chatroom into the private box where they could decide on the rules and characteristics of the people they would play.

_Sanzo:hi_

Fiftq:asl? (age, sex, location?)__

Goku:516, m, mars

Fiftq:g2g hv nic gm 

Fiftq's name disappeared off the bar on the right hand side and only he and Sanzo were playing. Dokugakuji's name flashed into it's place a second later. Waiting for the other players, he switched on the Media player and started listening to the latest band, Proboards29. They were actually pretty good, and a friend of a friend knew them. Maybe he would invite them to play a gig at his next party - his producers would always acquiesce to his requests for that sort of thing. He made idle chat with his fellow gamers, asking non-probe questions such as whether they were experienced gamers or not.

He made it a policy to ask non-probe questions, because some chat rooms would kick you out for delving too deeply. And he also hated being asked probe questions himself. What Fiftq had asked could be considered awfully rude, as giving one's age, gender and home was one of the first steps to identity theft, but it was also impolite not to answer. So he made up ridiculous answers, no one had lived to five hundred and sixteen yet. And he lived on Earth, not Mars. But he would never pass himself off as a girl, there was no need; half of the gamers were boys, half girls. He didn't need to hide his gender.

_Sanzo: Where's the game set? _

Dokugakuji: Post-war America?

Sanzo: Ancient civilizations have more choice...

Goku liked the idea of an ancient civilization more, so he added his vote to Sanzo's. Four more names flashed in, and finally the hoster (Gojyo) logged in.

Gojyo: So the setting is ancient what?

Hakkai: China?

Gojyo: aff?  
  
Everyone 'aff'ed as Gojyo put it, the shortened form of affirmative. He - as the hoster - typed in the required information and once done, all players were taken to the character creation page.

_a/n: For any grammar freaks out there, probe is a bit of internet jargon, not just a mistake._


	4. Chapter 4

More rantings. More thanks to treneka for beta-ing.

Once, again, for the ffnet.proboards people. May you update soon. (NOT may the Force be with you, though that is rather tempting.)

O

Kristopher scratched his head, thinking over his latest patient's situation. He had recorded the session and was now re-analysing their conversation, making notes every now and again.

_Briiing_! The loud noise in his ear shocked him, and he jerked back from the desk instinctively. He pressed the 'accept' button on the earpiece, resolving to turn the volume down in future whilst working.

"Hello?" he asked, hoping it wasn't his obsessive-compulsive patient, calling for the hundredth time this week to reconfirm her next appointment.

"Hello Daddy! What time are you coming home?" a girlish voice responded.

"Kanan, Daddy's working right now. At about six o'clock, okay?"

"Mummy says hi," his daughter continued, ignoring what Kris had said. He was unsure if she had even registered that he had talked.

"Well say hi to her for me okay? And everyone else."

"Okay," the high, childish voice complied.

"I love you. Bye!" The background noise on the phone had been almost deafening. Kris smiled; the house was always a riot. They had three adopted children - Hakkai, his middle child was nearly fourteen and despised school. They had adopted him at the age of eleven, as it was still mostly babies that were adopted and they wanted to give other children a chance. His oldest son was another boy, a sixteen year old who had only come into the family a year ago. Haunami was a lovely boy, and he actually looked like Kris! The kids had wide circle of friends, who seemed to be magnetically attracted to the house, and no child had the ability to stay quiet for long, hence the locale din. He and J0annê were unable to have their own kids. The child he had been talking to was Kanan, his sister's child, named after her late mother. Kris and Kanan had been extremely close, and Kris had eventually ended up marrying someone who could have been her twin. In fact, their personalities were practically interchangeable, as it was.

After being gang raped and finding she was pregnant, Kanan had commited suicide, sickened by what she called 'the monster child'. Kris had been slashed on the stomach trying to defend her from the attackers and was left to die as they dragged her away. He would have killed to save her, but he could not save Kanan from herself.

After the culprits had been apprehended, Kris and Kanan had spent the next few months in hospital. Kris went to see her the minute he was able, only to watch her jump out the third floor window. He had run downstairs, unheeding of the staff's warnings that running might tear open his still healing wounds

And he watched, helpless as his sister bled to death.

The rapist's families stood about in the waiting rooms - they had the nerve to come and visit! - muttering stupid apologies that did nothing to bring her back. In his fury, Kris lashed out at them, screaming wordlessly, wanting to render them apart, to kill; an eye for an eye. Before he was restrained, some fought back in self-defense and he somehow got hit in the eye. The injury left him almost blind in his right eye now, and nowadays wore a monocle to help rectify it. He had tried corrective surgery at first, but it failed, making the damage permanent. He was let off by the court on claims of overwhelming grief. It wasn't he who had fought, wasn't Kris. It had been another man altogether, as if he were two men in one body. Sometimes he still caught a glimpse of that other man, but he firmly pushed him back down into the deepest recesses of his mind, never to let him out.

Kanan the younger onewas saved from her mother's womb, and lived the next five months in an incubator. Kris had claimed her; she was the first child to be adopted by J0annê and him. The small child was an innocent, everyday reminder of her mother, and looked just like her, luckily, for Kris knew that his darker half" would emerge if he ever saw a trace of her father, and he could not control that other.

Ironic, really, for a psychiatrist to have demons of his own. He was supposed to be a pillar of support, and get rid of people's anxieties. The twenty-eight year old rubbed his brow, unable to concentrate on work.

He gook out a V!$0®$ brand VR that one of his wealthier patients had given him in thanks for a successful course of therapy.

When he was younger, Kris had been quite an experienced gamer, but had given it up about seven years ago. This would be the second time he used the VR. He took out the recording chip in his ear, which was currently droning on about the patient's wife. The yellow visor just gave enough space for his monocle to fit. He joined the first game he saw, hosted by someone called Gojyo; six others were there already. The host was the last to enter the gaming room and they all went to the character creation page

_Dokugakuji: wot r u ppl playing as?_

_Sanzo: 23, m_

Kris called himself Hakkai online, as a tribute to his son. Occasionally, he would change to Haunami as well, though. He added that he would be a twenty one year old, male as well, and each player put theirs details in, ending up with two females and six males; _a little gender biased_, he thought.

One half of the page was chat, and the other was for character creation. Kris put in green for a favourite colour and left the rest blank. The good thing about the VR V!$0®$ was that it drew information directly from your brain, using your deepest desires, nightmares and memories to create a character. It was also completely hack-proof for safety, and programmed only to one person, although it could be passed around if a total memory wipe were performed. It

had been absent from the mass market for ages until the government had finally given it the okay.

Everyone seemed to choose a younger age range,; the oldest was twenty-five. Kris chose twenty-one because he would be fresh out of university, and both Kanan and J0annê would have been in his life. Then again, there was no higher-level education in ancient China.

Taking off the eyeglass, and rocking back on his chair, he polished his monocle absently on his shirt, waiting for the other gamers to finish.


End file.
